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I’m afraid I haven’t got what it takes to be a “Nesbian”. That’s what Nina Nesbitt’s fans call themselves and no doubt they, the Nesbians, will find plenty to enjoy on the Scottish teenager’s debut album. But I’m not convinced by its attempt to cast her as a Caledonian Taylor Swift.

It suffers from blandly formulaic pop-rock and a self-censoring desire to play it safe, summed up by Nesbitt’s faux-defiance when she sings, “I don’t give a fuss, he’s the one I’m bringing back,” in which the attempt to avoid swearing sounds more awkward than the act itself.

Only on “Mr C”, a Lily Allen-channelling kiss-off to a vain “rich boy”, does she sound as spirited as a 19-year-old should.

Nina Nesbitt



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